“The master of your soul,” I finished. What could have happened that he would walk away from his family? My parents drove me crazy, but I couldn’t imagine not having them.

“Yes. Don’t feel sorry for me, Paisley. I can feel pity pouring out of you. I’ve never once regretted my decision.”

I tried to blank my expression. “How old were you?”

“One day over seventeen.”

I knew he wasn’t ready to tell me why…yet. “Thank you for telling me.”

We pulled into the driveway, and Jagger came around to my side, lowering me without brushing the tattoo. My feet hit the ground, and I smiled at him, all too aware of the shiver that raced through me at contact with him.

He cleared his throat. “How did you lose her? Peyton?” I felt the blood in my face race out of it like someone had pulled a drain plug, and he flinched. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to tell me.” His hands lingered at my waist before he drew them back.

I wanted him to know, to put it together as much as I needed him to stay away from my personal nightmare. “She had a heart condition no one knew about. It gave out one morning while she was away at school, and she was gone. Sudden cardiac death. Just like that. No good-bye.”

He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his shorts. “I’m so sorry you lost her.”

This was it, my chance to tell him naturally. Right. Now. Chills raced through me, but I opened my mouth anyway. “Jagger, you should know something.”

“Yeah?” I saw it then, the flickers of trust in his blue eyes, the slightest opening in the doorway he kept so tightly locked to himself, and I just… I just…

“I really like being your friend.”

I chickened out.

Chapter Eleven

Jagger

The hardest moment was when I saw you for what you really were…a liar.

My feet swung off the tiny seat my ass perched on. “Come on, little man! You got this!” The kid looked about seven, lifting his leg off the ground as he wound for the pitch. The ball released, sailing through the air, but fell short of the target.

He looked devastated.

“Hey, Dad!” I called out. The guy raised his eyebrows at me, and I tilted my head to the side, motioning to the lever that would dunk me.

He smiled in gratitude and carried the kid up to the red-and-white-spiraled target. “Go ahead, Brody.”

The boy’s eyes lit up as he looked at me beneath his Iron Man face paint. “You sure?”

“Show me what you got!” I took a deep breath as his little hand flew out, pressing the lever. The seat dropped out from under me, and I plummeted four feet into the tepid tank of water. I surfaced and gave the kid a thumbs-up as I climbed the ladder.

Masters held open the cage door. “Your shift is up.”

“Thanks, man.” I jumped out of the dunk tank, sluicing the excess water off my hair with the towel he handed me. “I have a couple hours off.”

“Why the hell would you sign up for two shifts of this?”

“The kids are cute.”

“And that had what to do with Walker skipping out?”

“We got tasked. It’s for charity. The guy never gets to see his girl, and I don’t mind getting dunked for two hours. He’s done far worse for my sake.”

Masters nodded. The guy was harder to crack than a nuclear code. “You might want to get your shirt on. The CG is wandering around here somewhere, and you know how he feels about ink.” He started to motion to his arm and then his pecs, then gave up and generally gestured to his torso. “You’re kind of…colorful.”

“What do you think he’d have to say about this?” I flicked my tongue stud across my teeth.

“Jesus, Bateman. It’s like you’re asking to get kicked out.”

He reset the lever and climbed into the tank. Montgomery, a warrant officer from our class, took the money, and the next shift started. Shit, my toes were pruned.

The fair was in full swing behind the CG’s house. Guess he didn’t mind loaning out his helipad for the day. People wandered the booths, bouncy things had squealing kids, and the smell of fried food made my stomach grumble.

I changed into my cargo shorts in the dressing area and then walked behind the booth where I’d left my shirt and shoes.

“Bateman.” Shit.

“Major Davidson, sir.” He wasn’t in uniform, but he stood between me and my shirt, snacking on a bag of peanuts. They were fucking mad about peanuts down here.

“Staying out of trouble?”

“I haven’t recently relocated any giant bears, if that’s what you mean.”

He cracked a smile. “Yeah, that was along the lines of my thinking.”

“I was debating one of the stationary helicopters, but you’ve made me see the error of my ways.”

“I somehow doubt that, but I’ll take what I can get when it comes to you.” He popped another peanut and motioned toward my shirt. “Please.”

I walked around him, cursing as water splashed me from Masters getting dunked.

“Well, Bateman, this takes casual to a whole new level.”

Fucking Carter. My fist flexed automatically, and I swallowed the need to force his West Point ring down his throat. If he tapped it on his desk one more time… “Just grabbing my shirt, Carter. Nothing to worry about. When are you working?”

He checked his watch. “I’m up after Masters in about an hour. I came by to see how it’s going.”